Baker's Heart
by catheriney2004
Summary: When the miraculous therapy of baking and the deep, ominous sadness of loneliness clash in a prodigious school environment, what chemistry could possibly take place? Can the light of a baker's heart penetrate the pain of a dark sorrow? Read to find out!
1. Chapter 1: Wounded Heart

**Baker's Heart**

A Story Based on a Baker and Gakuen-Alice Lover's Life

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Gakuen Alice – oh well, I can always dream.

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Everyone has a different story. A different soul, a different life, and most importantly, a different heart. It sounds corny, I know, but when you think about it, it makes sense.

What sort of heart does a kidney or a blood donor have?

What sorts of hearts do loving parents have?

_What sort of heart does a serial killer have?_

When you ask these sorts of questions, you don't really know the answer. You know who is good and who is bad, but do you really? What about loving parents that divorced? Are their hearts really so pure?

I'm not saying that my parents are divorced. They're living a wonderful life, working together in their own business – and, most importantly, taking care of us. My brother, sister, and I spend most of our days after school with our doting grandfather – we call him Jii-san. He encourages all of our activities – my sis's techno-genius, my bro's adoration of animals – even me stinking up the kitchen every once and awhile with a recipe gone awry. Our life could be considered...well..._perfect_.

That is, if you don't include school.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This is _my soul, life, and heart. _

_It's my Baker's Heart._

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

If there was anything going on in Mikan's mind, it was about baking.

Moist, rich cakes, creamy mousses, fluffy meringues galore – ideas and recipes for these things swirled in Mikan's mind as constantly as the ingredients in the blender every morning. Humming contentedly to herself, she would blend the fragrant, red strawberries, dripping with juice, the bananas, bursting with sweet ripeness, and the rich whole milk, cool against the throat. Then, she would add something else special in there for her family. An herb, a spice, a flavoring. Anything was possible.

Her siblings, aroused by the clattering sounds of the blender and kitchen utensils, trudged groggily down the stairs every morning to be handed a cool, refreshing cup of the fruit smoothie. Sitting at the granite-top island in the center of their enormous kitchen, all three siblings sipped contentedly at their cups.

"You added some cinnamon this time, didn't you?"

Hotaru took a calm, thoughtful sip of the smoothie, staring intently at her younger sister. A sheepish smile widening on her face, Mikan replied,

"I thought you wouldn't notice. Did you like the sprinkle of –"

"Lemon zest? Yes, it's very refreshing." Hotaru finished Mikan's sentence for her, grinning smugly behind the rim of her glass as her younger sister's face transformed into helpless disbelief. Ever since Mikan had started baking, Hotaru's unbelievable sense of taste had sharpened miraculously – most likely from trying to spot the many special ingredients that Mikan would add so lovingly. A handful of walnuts here, a pinch of nutmeg there; all of these additions were well thought-out by the younger sister and easily spotted by the older.

Rolling her eyes laughingly over to her older brother, Mikan's exasperation was reflected on her older brother's face, who watched both of his younger sisters intently. Although his parents and grandfather were good caretakers, he felt that his sisters were his responsibility. Shrugging and grinning simultaneously, Luca took another sip of the cooling drink. He could taste the faint hint of lemon now, and, carefully scrutinizing the glass, he noticed the small grains of cinnamon on the rim of the cup.

_"How did she notice all that without even looking in the cup?" _Ruka thought without a hint of jealousy. _"Hotaru is amazing."_

Seeing his youngest sister's brilliant smile as she joked with her sister, though, he added fondly,

_"And so is Mikan."_

Suddenly, a bustling sound erupted from the main stairway, the jangling of car keys and the clacking of high heels echoing down the hall to where the siblings sat.

"Sensei! Hurry up – we're already behind schedule!" A tall, pretty woman called up the stairs as she stepped down the stairs, her hair tied in a fashionably long ponytail behind her head. Turning to her children, she greeted them warmly.

"Good morning, children! Are you ready for school yet?"

Handing her a cup of the smoothie as she opened the garage door to leave, Mikan replied easily,

"Not yet, mother. We're just getting breakfast."

Patting her youngest daughter on the cheek lovingly and accepting the smoothie graciously, Mrs. Sakura cooed,

"Okay, honey – oo, and is this a strawberry-banana smoothie?" She took a gulp of the liquid. "And you added lemon, too! I love the idea of cinnamon!"

Smiling with embarrassment, Mikan replied,

"Thanks, Mom."

Giving each of her children one last hug before bolting out the door, cup in hand, Mrs. Sakura bade the children goodbye as she backed out of their four-car garage. Mikan and her siblings exchanged looks of amazement afterwards, marveling at the same skill that Hotaru had now inherited from their perfume-specialist mother. Mrs. Sakura had an amazing sense of both taste and smell – a skill most professional perfume-manufacturers could only dream of.

The children watched their father leave in a similar way, bolting out the door as soon as he could – not before he got his smoothie, though. Kissing his youngest daughters on the cheek and slapping his son a high five with his free hand, Mr. Sakura, chief-executive of the Sakura Perfuming Incorporation, followed after his wife in a sleek, black Camry.

As the garage door slammed shut for the second time, the children washed their cups and headed upstairs to change into school clothes. As Mikan retreated to her room, she heard her older sister call her name, softly. She turned as she entered her pink-walled room.

"What is it, Hotaru?" She asked pleasantly, a faint smile playing at her lips.

"Don't forget you've got an appointment during free period today," her sister informed her, sober and quiet. "You'll need your documents – it's a new doctor."

Mikan's smile transformed, bitter and twisted with pain. She replied quietly,

"I know."

And, sighing wearily, clenching the fingers on her left hand, she closed the door behind her.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Mikan entered Alice Academy for her 120th day of school in the 10th grade, she instantly remembered exactly why she hated waking up to school every day. Wearing her loose t-shirt and jeans, the fancily-dressed girls around her sent scornful looks of distaste in her direction, as if they had the right to judge her by what she wore.

Hotaru did her best to ward off these looks by flashing her Baka Gun 3000 at the perpetrators, but Mikan would send a silent look of forgiveness behind her, squeezing Hotaru's hand with a quiet sadness. This ceased her older sibling's murderous intentions, but by returning the squeeze, the resentment that they shared coursed through both their minds and body.

Luca, a year older than them and in 11th grade, never witnessed the nonverbal bullying, for he was in the upper-high school. Since there were so many students in Alice Academy, the younger girls were separated from their brother as soon as they drove into the school campus. The freshman and sophomores did not share any classes with the juniors and seniors. Mikan both cursed and thanked her luck, but she handled the bullying with quiet resentment. No matter how hard it got, she would never go verbal.

Hotaru was there for that.

Squeezing each others' hands reassuringly, they parted ways to their separate homerooms. Walking down the C corridor, Mikan steeled herself against the glares she received without abandon now that Hotaru was gone, and Hotaru glanced one last time behind her as she walked down the B corridor.

As both sisters turned the next corners, they exchanged a brief, meaningful look that crossed the entire length of the hallway in less than a moment.

"_Good luck,_" Hotaru thought to herself as she lost sight of her younger sibling.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

To Mikan, who sat in the back of the history classroom to avoid confronting their terribly frightening teacher, Jinno-sensei, a double-period was like sitting through three years of pure boredom. Staying awake was a struggle.

Head snapping up from a dose, Mikan realized that she'd almost fallen face-first into her history textbook, a musty, 900-page long hulk of a book. She glanced up at Jinno-sensei, heart pounding with fear, trying to see if he had noticed her dozing. Seeing that he had, fortunately, not quite noticed her, Mikan shrank down in her chair from pure relief. She'd been lucky so far, but she still remembered the nightmares of what might happen one day if her luck ran out.

Abruptly, inspiration struck Mikan; the image of a cake, coated with nuts and a rich, thick frosting shot from the depths of her brain and into clear view. She saw the flavors and the aromas swirling from the cake as clearly as she could see the back of the head of the person sitting in front of her. Her eyes widening in delight and excitement, Mikan's hand shot to her notebook to tear out a piece of paper. Pink mechanical pencil in her right hand, she began to draw furiously. A diagram appeared on the sheet.

"_Don't add too much nutmeg," _she scribbled furiously as she completed the sketch of the cake. _"Sprinkle walnuts evenly," _she wrote, turning the paper 90 degrees and then scribbling, _"Dark Chocolate Cake" _on the left side of the paper.

Grinning profoundly, Mikan sat back in her desk and stared contentedly at the diagram. Her grandfather could taste nutmeg more strongly than others, it being the only spice he'd grown up with in Connecticut, also named The Nutmeg State. She knew that he had bad memories of his childhood, so she avoided using too much of the spice whenever she baked. Also, the last time she'd baked a cake, she'd nearly driven her parents insane with the placement of the walnuts; one here, five there – the imperfection aggravated them so much that they even bought a covered cake stand to hide the cake. She'd made note to avoid the mistake next time.

The next urge she felt was to draw a slice of the cake; she wanted to see the delicate, moist crumb of the cake, the fork piercing the thick, sweet frosting, and the walnuts, barely clinging to the surface of the frosting. Sketching out the triangular shape and the two wedged layers of the cake, Mikan twisted her mouth this way and that as a slice of cake, decadent and rich, took form on the sheet of paper. It came to her as easily as her mother and sister's wondrous sense of taste.

Her joy was short-lived. Just as she leaned back in her chair again to scrutinize the slice of cake that she had sketched, an ominous, dark shadow loomed over her desk. Afraid to look up, Mikan felt her papers torn from beneath her fingers and had to bite her lip hard to keep from yelling out.

Jinno-sensei had spotted her not paying attention and was ready to gain her repentance. Glaring furiously at the diagram, nose wrinkling in disgust at the trivial things the girl had drawn during his all-important class, Jinno-sensei did something so horrible, so heartless, that Mikan was shocked beyond words.

He began to shred her diagram into pieces.

Muttering incoherent curses about how insolent children were becoming, Jinno-sensei forcefully shoved the papers into the trash can, glaring at the gaping Mikan one last time before snapping the ruler across his palm and resuming his lecture. There were snickers and murmurs that rippled through the room, unheard by Mikan as she stared forlornly at the scraps of her diagram as they fluttered, like autumn leaves, into the gaping hole.

Burying her head into her right palm behind her textbook, which she tactfully propped up, Mikan scrunched up her face and tried not to cry as a small piece of paper that missed the trash can floated onto her shoe. Flicking her toe in helpless shock and anger, she made a fist against her chin to keep her lips from trembling.

Staring blankly at the black, black words, uniform against the smooth, shiny surface of her textbook, Mikan silently brooded about what had happened – no. What she had let happen. As a steady stream flowed down her cheeks, Mikan wiped the unbidden tears from her face. It wasn't like she couldn't re-draw the diagram. It wasn't like she had forgotten the ideas she'd thought of already.

It was just never the same the second time.

And her face dropped into her open palm again, blind and deaf to the things going on around her. She withdrew from class, not only physically, but mentally.

When the lunch bell rang, Mikan doggedly left the classroom, hugging her textbooks and hidden folder of recipes to her chest. She refused to even glance into the trash can as she passed it, afraid to see the forlorn remnants of the slice of cake she'd drawn, swirling helplessly into the black hole of the trash can.

Being the first one out of the classroom, Mikan didn't even notice the last person out reaching in and

silently............................................................

.......................................................................................................................................quietly..........................................................._plucking the papers out._

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If you enjoyed this first chapter, please support me and continue to read; I will update when possible – please give me feedback about anything I could improve on and things that you liked – I'd appreciate it!

Thank you!

* * *

-Catheriney2004


	2. Chapter 2: Open Wounds

**Baker's Heart**

A Story Based on a Baker and Gakuen-Alice Lover's Life

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Gakuen Alice; I guess I'll stick with just writing stories for now, then.

* * *

**Introduction:**

Everyone has a different story. A different soul, a different life, and most importantly, a different heart. It sounds corny, I know, but when you think about it, it makes sense.

What sort of heart does a kidney or a blood donor have?

What sort of heart does a loving parent have?

What sort of heart does a serial killer have?

When you ask these sorts of questions, you don't really know the answer. You know who is good and who is bad, but do you really? What about loving parents that divorced? Are their hearts really so pure?

I'm not saying that my parents are divorced. They're living a wonderful life, working together in their own business – and most importantly, taking care of us. My brother, sister, and I spend most of our days after school with our doting grandfather – we call him Jii-san. He encourages all of our activities – my sis's techno-genius, my bro's adoration of animals – even me stinking up the kitchen every once and awhile with a recipe gone awry. Our life could be considered...well…_perfect._

That is, if you didn't include school.

* * *

This is _my soul, life, and heart. _

_It's my Baker's Heart.

* * *

_

**Start of Chapter Two: **

"Where are you going, Natsume?"

A raven-haired sophomore turned to look at his friend, who stood at the other end of the hall in the B corridor. Pulling the wily black hair from his face, Natsume replied coolly,

"Nowhere. You know I never leave the school."

Watching Natsume shuffle his papers uncomfortably and stuff the edge of a ripped paper into his textbook, Luca didn't quite believe his crimson-eyed fried. Eyeing the door Natsume stood by with skepticism, he asked,

"I didn't mean anything like that." He glanced at the doors beside his raven-haired friend meaningfully. "Just, where are you going?"

"I already told you," Natsume replied brusquely, frowning at Luca with a cold intensity. "I'm not going anywhere."

Realizing that the hot-headed sophomore did not wish to reveal his intentions, the blonde-haired junior backed off with respect to his friend. Shrugging jauntily, he let the words fall loosely out of his mouth.

"Alright, then, Natsume. See you during free period later today."

His reply only a grunt, the crimson-eyed boy swiveled around and headed down the C corridor, leaving his confused junior-year friend to watch him go.

"Alright, then, Natsume," Luca muttered under his breath, the taste of bitterness tainting his mouth. "Just _don't_ tell me anything about you. I'll stick with knowing _nothing_, just like I have for the past few years that we've known each other."

And he turned on his heels, heading gloomily down the B corridor again to class.

He didn't even bother to wonder if his cold-blooded sophomore friend had taken the other set of stairs up to the roof.

* * *

Natsume, very carefully, scrutinized the many pieces of ripped paper.

He was sitting on the closed-off roof to the school, as it was lunchtime and he never felt hungry at school. Glancing around to make sure he was alone, as he knew he was, for no one else ever came to the roof, Natsume settled down at the corner of the tiled structure, fingering a larger piece of the 16 pieces of paper.

Squatting on the tiles of the roof and dropping his chin into his hand, he carefully examined the scraps of the paper. They were a puzzle – a black and white one.

He placed the corners of the paper where they belonged, and then, frowning as he worked, he slowly pieced the rest of the puzzle together, turning his head this way and that as he tried to figure out which parts of the picture went together.

Natsume had awoken momentarily from his nap in the back of the history room that day, having deemed fourth period his sleeping time – besides, it was a double-period with Jinno-sensei – who wanted to stay awake for that? He had been about to pull the textbook back over his eyes, when, abruptly, he spotted another girl, brunette-haired and with her nose in a mass of papers and writing furiously, in the back of the room. At first, he had thought that she was only a nerd that actually wanted to listen to Jinno-sensei's lectures and take notes, but as he watched her turn the paper this way and that, he became intrigued by what exactly she was doing.

Without realizing how long he had been watching the brunette-haired girl draw, he suddenly realized that someone was blocking his view. Looking up with calm annoyance, he realized with a slight twinge that it was Jinno-sensei. What was he doing back here? He only ever came to the back of the room when he felt like giving Natsume a piece of his mind for sleeping during his class. He'd already yelled at Natsume this morning – what else did he want? Natsume's mind buzzed with questions like these, until he realized that he was not the target of the reprimanding.

Instead, it was the _girl_ who was getting yelled at.

Natsume wasn't listening to what the angry teacher was yelling about as he wrenched the paper from the girl's hands. Craning his neck a little to the right, Natsume was able to catch a glance of the drawing – it was a cake! - before he realized that Jinno-sensei was _ripping the paper into pieces!_

A sudden rage washed over Natsume as he watched the teacher rip the paper into half eight times in his fury, and he barely had time to spot the broken look on the girl's face as she propped up her textbook and concealed her face from view – crying, probably. Feeling both fury and shock wash over him as strongly as if he had been the one drawing the cake, Natsume ground his teeth and forcefully shoved the textbook back over his eyes to keep from exploding. He couldn't get sent down to the principal's office today – oh, no, not today.

He had to save the drawing.

And so he had. As he shifted the slips of paper this way and that, he cursed Jinno-sensei's uniform ripping, for all of the pieces of paper looked the same to him in size. Taking his time, forgetting where he was and the breeze that blew softly on his cheeks, Natsume slowly, but surely, brought the ripped picture back into one piece. Sitting back on his haunches, he let out a breath of relief as he examined the puzzle. He had done it.

Now, as he enthusiastically stared at the drawing, he realized that there was not only a drawing of a cake, but there were scribbles and markings placed carefully around the diagram. Leaning in closer to read the notes, his heart fluttered with an unexplained excitement for this drawing, of which he had never seen before.

"_Don't add too much nutmeg?"_ He thought bewilderedly to himself as he squinted at the paper. _"Scrape sides? Don't overbeat?" _

What did these words, foreign-sounding and strange, mean together?

What was nutmeg? A spice? A flavor? Natsume's mouth, strangely, because he was never hungry, watered as he imagined it. And what did she mean by scrape? Could you even scrape the sides of a cake? And what should you beat to make a cake, anyway? Natsume had thought that cakes were just a powder poured into water and mixed together.

All of these overwhelming feelings of cluelessness both frustrated and exhilarated Natsume, and he stared hungrily at the sketches of the cake. The fragile, rich cake seemed to puff back up as the fork, unmoving, pierced the dark crumb of the cake in the brunette-haired girl's picture, and just thinking this sent chills of longing up Natsume's spine. He wanted to see the cake for real. He longed to be a part of this magical world, called baking, that he could not reach. His heart reached out to it, for it held nothing. And an unexplainable longing came over Natsume like the dark fist which restrained his heart.

He wanted to see the cake in completion.

He wanted to see the magic of baking with his own eyes.

* * *

With Hotaru's worried, violet eyes boring a hole into the side of Mikan's head, she found it hard to choke down her peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

"Hotaru, can you stop that?" Mikan whined childishly, trying to shake off her older sister's unrestrained worry. She'd told Hotaru about what had happened during double-period – a mistake, of course. Mikan thoroughly regretted saying anything about the incident. She hated to make her mature, orderly, on-top-of-everything sister worry. "I'll be okay – I didn't get in trouble with the principal…"

"However," her sister reasoned, infuriatingly calm. "Your recipe got ripped into pieces. Are you okay with that?"

Struggling to keep her eyes in line with her older sister's, Mikan shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she chewed her bite of sandwich a little more slowly. Annoyed by the ignorance of her question, Hotaru snapped,

"Just drink some milk to wash that down! Why aren't you answering me?"

Reaching slowly for her milk carton, Mikan silently took a sip of her milk to please her older sister. Sighing as she swallowed the last bit of sandwich, she was about to reply when –

"God – can you believe it?" A loud, bold voice exclaimed from behind them. The girls turned in surprise to see who was speaking. "Natsume's decided to skip lunch again!"

The loud teen that had decided to interrupt their conversation hadn't actually been speaking to them – he had merely been conversing with his tablemates. A star marked upon his cheek, he fretfully pulled back on his navy-blue dyed hair. Another boy, blonde and wide-eyed, replied with a stiffly-grinning face,

"Oh, he always does that, Tsubasa – just get used to it, already!"

Staring pointedly at his friend with a hint of exasperation, the boy named Tsubasa said,

"If I didn't know that half the things you say are joking, then I'd have pounded you to the ground already, KoKo. And I _can't_ get used to it!" He threw his hands up, almost upsetting his milk. "How can he do this every day? It's not like there's anywhere cooler to go get something to eat for miles around!"

Laughing nervously, a bespectacled, tan-haired boy interjected,

"Of course – you'd be there right now if there was one, Tsubasa. And I'm sure Natsume's got a reasonable excuse to…" He searched for the words, pushing his glasses up his nose as they slipped. "…miss lunch."

Scoffing with annoyance, the navy-haired boy, Tsubasa, picked up his cheeseburger. He took a large chomp out of the burger, as if to vent his anger, and he threw his head back to take a gulp of milk from his carton. Slapping his milk back down onto his tray, he stared intensely at his friends. Leaning in a little, he asked seriously,

"Hey, do you think that he's hiding something from us?" He glanced between his two friends, eyebrows knitted with worry. Mikan thought he looked like a sports coach whose team was losing a big game. "Like, something big?"

As Tsubasa resumed devouring his cheeseburger, KoKo slurped at his ramen noodles and watched Yuu, the bespectacled one, finger his ham sandwich nervously. Finally coming up with an answer after a few moments, Yuu compromised,

"Well, I'm sure he's got a reason for that, too," he stated firmly, seeming confident in their absent friend. "He'll tell us about what he's hiding someday – I just know it."

Muttering gloomily to himself, Tsubasa leaned back a little in his seat and replied,

"I really hope so."

And, as he got up to throw his trash away, Mikan and Hotaru whipped their heads around again, sharing a mutual look of interest before going back to their lunches in silence. Delicately picking up a crab roll from her lunchbox, Hotaru nibbled the sushi thoughtfully as Mikan stared off into space, mentally lamenting her lost recipe.

"You know, Mikan," Hotaru suddenly murmured, still holding the half-finished crab roll to her mouth. "You are allowed to tell me about some of the things that you feel."

Her milky, hazel eyes still fixed on something that was not there, Mikan replied distantly,

"I know, Hotaru."

She turned to her sister, smiling softly with a sudden openness. She picked up her unfinished sandwich and repeated herself.

"I know."

And they ate on in silence.

By the time the bell for free period rang, still neither of them had spoken a word to each other.

* * *

"Hello, Mikan!"

Jolted out of her gloom from a fruitless lunch, Mikan looked up at the person who had greeted her with such vibrancy. A young man, in his twenties and bursting with liveliness, stood at the door of the empty classroom with a folder in his hand. Mikan briefly noticed that the folder was the one that she had given to the secretary at the office that morning; this man was her new therapist. What would he do to try and heal her left hand? Something different than the others had, she hoped.

Mikan had a paralyzed left hand. Ugly, twisted, and blackened, the hideous limb didn't match Mikan's fair, unblemished features. She regarded the ugly wound with bitter feelings, which threatened to overwhelm her with hate at times.

She had come across this terrible blemish when she was younger – around twelve. While removing a large, clumsy pan of cookies from an oven much too high for her to reach into, her mittened right hand slipped just a little bit. Just a little. Without thinking, reflexively, she had let her uncovered left hand shoot out to save the precious sheet of chocolate chip cookies.

This, unfortunately, was where her biggest source of shame was.

At the first moment of touching the burning hot pan, she had felt nothing. In the next moment, a searing pain shot through her like a blade. Letting out a scream of agony, her right hand shot to clutch her hurt arm. The pan went clattering to the floor, soft, just-baked cookies splattering the kitchen tiles like the blood that flowed from Mikan's wound. Screaming, falling to her knees, Mikan refused to let go of her left hand, and even when they pried her fingers from the wounded ones to treat her, they did not leave their fisted shape. The bloody wound, under the care of many family members, did not last long. The scars on both her left hand and heart, however, refused to leave her be.

This was the only reason she would accept going through therapy with yet another doctor. The only reason. She hated when she was in so much pain that she could not even fall asleep at night, and even more so when her mother joined her in crying for her wound.

Eyeing the bright-eyed man with weary skepticism, Mikan made one last vow.

This was the last time she would go through these feelings of disappointment, the weeks of painful operations. The one, last, final time.

After this, she was giving up everything.

* * *

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* * *

Thank you for reading this chapter!

I hope that you will continue to support both me and the characters in my story, and please tell me how I am doing occasionally with a review!

Thank you all again!

-Catheriney2004


	3. Chapter 3: Returned

Baker's Heart

A Story Based on a Baker and Gakuen-Alice Lover's Life

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Gakuen Alice! ;D

* * *

**Introduction:**

Everyone has a different story. A different soul, a different life, and most importantly, a different heart. It sounds corny, I know, but when you think about it, it makes sense.

What sort of heart does a kidney or a blood donor have?

What sort of heart does a loving parent have?

What sort of heart does a serial killer have?

When you ask these sorts of questions, you don't really know the answer. You know who is good and who is bad, but do you really? What about loving parents that divorced? Are their hearts really so pure?

I'm not saying that my parents are divorced. They're living a wonderful life, working together in their own business – and most importantly, taking care of us. My brother, sister, and I spend most of our days after school with our doting grandfather – we call him Jii-san. He encourages all of our activities – my sis's techno-genius, my bro's adoration of animals – even me stinking up the kitchen every once and awhile with a recipe gone awry. Our life could be considered...well…_perfect._

That is, if you didn't include school.

* * *

This is _my soul, life, and heart. _

_It's my Baker's Heart._

* * *

**Start of Chapter Three: **

"Sis!!!"

Removing the helmet from her sleek, black hair, Hotaru turned to face the door just as a streak of brunette flew by. A series of frantic screeching followed soon after, and she instantly assumed that her klutzy younger sister had returned from school. Waiting patiently for Mikan to come ricocheting back down the hall, she calmly twisted another screw into a sheet of shiny metal, biding her time. In another moment or so, a mess of flyaway brunette hair and long, thin limbs came bolting through the door.

"The therapist's awesome!" Mikan squealed exuberantly, scooting onto the floor beside her sister's desk as papers flapped to the ground beside her. Seeming not to hear her younger sister, Hotaru's sharp, violet eyes scanned the vicinity.

"You messed up my room," she replied, seeming more bemused than annoyed. Scurrying to snatch all the documents back up and stacking them neatly on her older sister's work desk, Mikan continued to rant.

"I mean, seriously," she sighed, shaking her head. "I've had, like, _billions_ of other people 'help' – " At this, she put up air quotes, rolling her eyes. " –me, but this guy's totally different! He really listens to me – and plus, it's super-fun to have class with him!"

Gazing at her excited younger sister with an adoration concealed by apathy, Hotaru replied,

"So, what did she do with you?"

"It's not a girl this time!" Mikan exclaimed, her eyes getting big. "I mean, he's so pretty that he looks like a girl, with that long blonde hair and all, but – "

"What? The therapist's not a girl?"

"Well, no…"

"Did he do anything weird?"

Mikan put her finger to her chin, looking up and scrunching her eyebrows.

"I don't _think_ so…" she contemplated hesitantly, her large, amber eyes swiveling to meet Hotaru's. "I mean, all we did was talk about what I want to be when I grow up."

"Oh."

After living with her younger sibling for nearly 16 years, Hotaru didn't need to ask Mikan what she was planning to be. It was obvious, wasn't it? She wanted to cook – to be surrounded by food in every aspect of her life. But she didn't see how that had anything to do with healing her hand.

Her lips tightening a little in suspicion, Hotaru readjusted her helmet, ready to get back to work and signaling the end of their conversation. Although it seemed that the raven-haired girl had decided the end of the discussion, their conversation still rang in her head as she worked through her next project.

Used to her sister's silent ways, Mikan walked lightly out of the room, not wanting to disturb her sister's quiet time. Peering at her sister as she closed the door, bent over her screwdriver and metal scrap, she smiled to herself and let go of the doorknob. Tip-toeing silently across the hall, she shot into her room, shut the door, and peacefully began to do her homework – and once that was finished with that, one hour later, she began to sketch something out on a piece of scrap paper.

She had decided that she would prepare dinner that night – cake, or no cake.

* * *

The next morning, smoothies were ruled out of breakfast – instead, Mikan made crepes.

"What do you want on yours, Mom?" she called upstairs, holding a hot pan in her good hand and shaking it vigorously. "I've got all sorts of spreads!"

"Chocolate and bananas!" was the brief reply, and the snap of a suitcase followed soon after. Flipping the thin pancake with easy expertise, Mikan returned to the electric stove, where a homemade chocolate sauce was simmering over the heat. Flipping the crepe a final time onto a fancy china plate, she took a swift scoop of the dark, creamy mixture and drizzled it over two plates, which joined the three other prepared breakfasts at the table, accompanied by bowls of fresh fruit and whipped cream. Cupping her right hand around her mouth, she shouted,

"Mom! Dad! Luca! Hotaru! Breakfast's ready!"

Swiping her hands on her apron and quickly adjusting the plates to their correct positions as she heard four pairs of feet thump down the stairs, Mikan hummed contently as she glided around the kitchen to get a small bundle of forks to eat with.

Her mother and sister were the first to sit down, their chairs sliding easily into place, and the two boys followed soon after, scraping their chairs across the dining room floor. They prayed their thanks, called Mikan to stop washing dishes and eat, and they began to have breakfast.

Today was Tuesday – A.K.A. the day that Mom and Dad spent the majority of their mornings tidying up the house and spraying perfumes on the furniture for interested clients. They had introduced a new sort of advertising – Amiable Home Advertising – which involved inviting frequent customers to their house and showing them the newest perfumes. Mikan thought it was a clever idea – but even more, to her, it meant that they could all eat breakfast together, instead of rushing off in opposite directions as soon as the day began.

Taking her seat at the table and smiling at her siblings and parents as they filled their plates with fruit and cream, she herself began to slice her crepe with one hand, gripping the fork between her thumb and pointer finger as she used the pinky to saw the knife across the plate. Bringing a gooey, jam-covered mouthful to her lips, she watched her mother nibble daintily on a thin slice of banana, coated thickly in chocolate sauce. Her father plopped a generous spoonful of marmalade onto his own crepe, licking his lips as he waited patiently for Luca to finish using the strawberries. Grinning silently to herself and licking the whipped cream from her fork, Mikan continued to bathe in the silent joy of food for that entire breakfast, as their family rarely exchanged much talk while enjoying a meal.

Later, as they thanked their chauffeur and exited their sleek, white limo, Mikan glanced back at her Hotaru and asked,

"What'd you think of the crepes?"

Smiling a small smile at her younger sister, violet eyes glimmering in the morning sun, she replied,

"Wonderful, Mikan. You used the fresh milk, didn't you?" Mikan nodded vigorously. "I could taste the cream in there."

"Yup!" Mikan replied, delighted. She giggled a little and hopped up the last pair of stairs to the school. "I made sure to keep the pan nice and hot, too – last time, I got a gooey mess!"

Smiling encouragingly, Hotaru followed her up to the entrance of the school and down the hall, up until they parted ways at the usual corridor.

"Don't be drawing anything in Jinno's class today, alright, Mikan?" Hotaru told her sister anxiously. "You're just going to get caught by him again."

Nodding agreeably, Mikan looked Hotaru in the eye and said,

"I'll be alright. I promise."

"I know."

And they parted ways down the hall, never breaking eye contact until the very last moment.

* * *

"No way."

Mikan stared at the desk in disbelief as her classmates piled into the room behind her, chattering busily amongst themselves. Her fingers hesitating as she reached for the item in question, she slowly plucked the mangled paper up from her desk, her breath catching as she recognized the diagram and her scrawled handwriting.

"It's my recipe from yesterday," she whispered in awe, fingering the delicately-placed strips of tape and breathing in every wonderful feeling she had felt while drawing the diagram the day before. It was in an uneven 16 pieces, and her pencil marks had become smeared with wear-and-tear, but her breath still caught with every moment she spent staring at the paper, a slow grin spreading across her face.

"Sakura, sit down!"

Mikan was so absorbed by amazement that she even forgot to apologize to the teacher as she plopped down into her seat – but it didn't matter – she wasn't about to pay attention to biology class, anyway. She spent the rest of the period analyzing each student in her class, trying to figure out who had returned her recipe to her in such a mysterious way. However, no one seemed responsible for the pleasant surprise, and she proceeded to her next class with dampened spirits. She needed to thank this person – whoever he or she was.

She was so overwrought with this feeling that she forgot to look around herself during history class – and passed that mystery person right by, his crimson eyes following her out of the room, a sense of longing hidden in the depths of his gaze.

* * *

"I swear that's what happened!"

The cafeteria was in its usual hubbub that afternoon as Mikan settled down with Hotaru at their usual vacant table across from the large group of boys. Eating her spicy calamari with relish, Hotaru's royally-deep eyes searched her sister for more explanation. So distraught that she could barely unwrap her homemade chicken salad sandwich, Mikan shook her hands with emphasis as she continued to tell her story.

"I mean, I just walked into class," she explained. "The first person, too! And then, there it was! Just sitting there, face-down on my desk in the back of the room. There's no doubt about it – someone was returning it to me."

"I believe you."

"You don't seem like it!"

"No, but I do," Hotaru replied calmly to her sister, who was now so worked up that a furious blush had tinged her face pink. "I'm just a little suspicious."

"Why would you be?" Mikan asked her, a little indignant, as she took a chomp from her sandwich. Her anger seemed to melt away as she chewed on the delicate bread, though, and she settled down enough to listen to her older sibling's explanation.

"I mean, think about it," Hotaru explained carefully. "It's not like anyone would take the time to put all 16 pieces of that paper together without a good reason."

"Why would they need one?" Mikan countered, still believing fully in this mysterious savior of hers. "Maybe they're just a good person."

Raising her eyebrows in skepticism, Hotaru replied,

"I don't remember you telling me about any 'good people' in your class, Mikan."

Her younger sister turned a light shade of pink as she gnawed furiously at a chunk of shredded chicken and celery.

"And plus," Hotaru continued, dunking a curled piece of fried squid into her tartar sauce. "a really 'nice' person would have given the paper back to you face-to-face, instead of hiding and slipping it to you unnoticed."

"Hmph," Mikan huffed, suddenly wrapping her unfinished sandwich up and snapping open her lunchbox. "I'm going to the FCS classroom."

Firmly shutting her tin lunchbox and standing up, she left her older sister sitting silently at the table, staring blankly across the cafeteria as she brought a piece of crisp squid to her mouth.

"Poor Mikan," she murmured, her eyes suddenly closing in weariness. "So innocent."

She finished the rest of her lunch in silence.

* * *

"That Hotaru!"

Mikan stormed across the hallway, her hazel eyes burning deep chestnut in her anger. She had left the lunchroom on a whim, and she was already aware that she had hurt her older sister's feelings. But before she could really feel any repentance, waves of fury washed out any lingering feelings of guilt.

She turned down several hallways, stomping past art classrooms, gyms, and the like, ducking under windows where classes were going on. She didn't bother to duck at the stairwell, though, and she was certainly too angry to notice the pair of hawk-like eyes following her down the hallway from behind the stairwell doors. Closing the heavy metal doors quietly and standing loosely around the corner Mikan had just passed, the mysterious person followed her all the way down to the Family & Consumer Science classroom – where the student kitchens were.

Less than moments after Mikan had entered the classroom, any signs of her anger had already melted away into a silent sulk. She moved swiftly around the kitchen, opening cabinets and sliding open glass panels as she assembled a small party of ingredients and tools on the center table of the kitchen. Taking a measuring cup and a spatula in hand, she began to bake a soothing dessert to calm herself, her lips closed softly in silence.

Natsume watched just as silently outside the door to the classroom, barely breathing as he watched her move fluidly about the kitchen, slicing apples and measuring ingredients for what seemed like an eternity. He watched her spoon a thick, cream-colored batter into a round cake pan and smooth it out, placing apple slices strategically out on the top. Then, she placed it in the oven for what seemed like an eternity, washing dishes and cleaning the countertop as a sweet, peaceful aroma began to permeate the room.

Natsume's senses danced in a rhythm that seemed to match Mikan's movement around the kitchen, smooth and tranquil, as she worked at her own steady pace. He couldn't help it – he was mesmerized by it – by her.

As the eternity slipped by as quickly as it arrived, Natsume held his breath as she pulled the cake from the oven, pulling it to her face to breathe in the calming scent of the apples. He watched in awe as she easily cut a slice from the pan, turning it onto a plate and swirling a dab of silky whipped cream on top. Taking a small bite from the cake, Mikan closed her eyes and savored the crumbly sweetness and delicate flavor of the cake, swirling the soft slice of apple she had gotten with her bite. Natsume almost envied her as she enjoyed her small dessert, and his trance was only broken in time to slip away just before the bell for 5th period rang, sending both Mikan and her mysterious onlooker to their next class.

This was a time that they unknowingly shared.

A time when food brought two people together.

* * *

Thank you for reading this chapter!

I'm sorry that I am such an inconsistent updater – however, as a busy cook myself with much work to do, finding time to type up a chapter is not always possible. ;D I hope you enjoyed reading these past three chapters, and please leave a review!

* * *

This is the recipe for the apple cake. ;D If you'd like to make it healthier and more flavorful (as in apple-flavored, that is), please substitute some of the oil for applesauce!

**Apple Cake Recipe**

Adapted from Kitchen Princess by Natsumi Ando

2 tablespoons butter

½ cup sugar

1 tablespoon brown sugar

2 eggs

¾ cup flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 apple

**Instructions:**

Line an 8" x 8" baking pan with wax or parchment paper and preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

Cream the butter and both sugars in a large bowl until fluffy.

Add the eggs in one by one and beat well.

Sift the flour and baking powder into the bowl (make sure there are no lumps). Stir your mixture – it will turn into a thick, sticky paste.

Pour your batter into the pan and flatten it out with a knife.

On a cutting board, peel and cut your apple into thin slices. Then, carefully arrange your apple slices as you like it in the pan.

Carefully slide your pan into the oven and bake for 25-30 minutes. **(Be careful to watch your cake, as the moisture from both your apples and measurements may vary!!!!)**

10) When the cake is done (it should be speckled brown on the top and golden in overall color when done), poke a skewer in to see if it is baked through in the center. If your skewer comes out clean, it's done! Remove from the oven, turn out onto a rack, and cool. Or, just slice a piece while warm, serve it with ice cream or whipped cream, and enjoy!

* * *

Thanks again for reading! ;D

-Catheriney2004


	4. Chapter 4: Confusion

**Baker's Heart**

A Story Based on a Baker and Gakuen-Alice Lover's Life

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Gakuen Alice! ;D

* * *

**Introduction:**

Everyone has a different story. A different soul, a different life, and most importantly, a different heart. It sounds corny, I know, but when you think about it, it makes sense.

What sort of heart does a kidney or a blood donor have?

What sort of heart does a loving parent have?

What sort of heart does a serial killer have?

When you ask these sorts of questions, you don't really know the answer. You know who is good and who is bad, but do you really? What about loving parents that divorced? Are their hearts really so pure?

I'm not saying that my parents are divorced. They're living a wonderful life, working together in their own business – and most importantly, taking care of us. My brother, sister, and I spend most of our days after school with our doting grandfather – we call him Jii-san. He encourages all of our activities – my sis's techno-genius, my bro's adoration of animals – even me stinking up the kitchen every once and awhile with a recipe gone awry. Our life could be considered...well…_perfect._

That is, if you didn't include school.

This is _my soul, life, and heart. _

_It's my Baker's Heart._

* * *

**Start of Chapter Four: **

"Bye, Naru-sensei!"

Mikan waved excitedly to the tall, blonde man in the window above her, backpack swinging heavily onto her back. Smiling cheerily and waving back, he shouted down to her in a clear, melodic voice,

"Thanks for the cookies!" He waved a bag of goodies out the window, shaking them back and forth and sending her a thumbs up. Flushing with excitement and happiness, Mikan grinned widely and returned the gesture as she backed out the front gates of the school. She'd asked him what his favorite flavors were on Friday; unusually, he'd said he liked roses and tea. After visiting the supermarket that weekend, she had acquired a bottle of rose water and infused it in her recipe for tea biscotti; as an extra touch, she'd dipped each cookie in white chocolate. She smiled one last time, thinking of her mother and father's reactions when they'd smelled the biscotti and begged for a taste. The cookies were good. She mentally tucked the recipe away in her head for another occasion.

Still back-peddling with a smile plastered on her face, Mikan gave a side-glance to check if she was about to ram into anything, and turned with a final wave to her teacher. She swiveled and faced the road in front of the school, her attitude changing gears immediately. Glancing warily around her as she crossed the sidewalk, Mikan's thin, elegant eyebrows furrowed with worry and apprehension as she clenched and unclenched her right hand. Her lips pursed, she took one final 360 around her and let out a long breath.

_Good,_ she thought, and looked up at the sky in silent thanks. _They're not here today._

Of course, she'd never told Hotaru or Luca – or anyone else, for that matter – about them. How they were still following her after all this time. They were awful, mean bullies who ought to be put into prison to rot. People like them were just big jerks who gloried in the pain of others. Mikan shook her head as if to get rid of the resentment, trying to focus on something else – to not worry.

Taking another deep breath, she continued to walk forward, leaving the school behind her and treading onto the grassy path back home. In her silent thoughtfulness, she didn't notice the slight rustle behind her, the intent gaze of someone watching her every step. It was only when the back of her neck prickled that she knew she was being followed.

Her eyes wide with fright, her right hand clinging to her left, she glanced around her frantically and thought,

_Shoot! They've never followed me this far! Where do I go –_

"Running somewhere?" A coarse voice came from somewhere behind her, chilling her to the bone. Whirling around, heart pounding like a drum, she turned to meet the group of people approaching her, eyes round with fear. They laughed at the look on her face, nearing ever so closer, hateful eyes full of malice. Mikan's hands trembled violently, shaking with terror, but she forced her voice to stay level.

"I don't have anything you'd want," She rasped, her throat opening and closing with convulsions. "Why are you following me?" The group seemed to think this was funny, their four faces all full of sick amusement. Mikan's heart beat so fast she thought she would suffocate, her breaths coming in shallow gulps. She wished she could run, run _anywhere - _if she could just get away from these awful jerks. One of them grabbed her arm.

"Gee," He said, his breath foul with the smell of beer. "You're even dumber than you look at school." Mikan's breath caught in her throat at the insult. "Who else could possibly deserveto be kicked around more than you?" She tried desperately to yank her wrist out from the boy's grip, hair flying as she pulled again and again.

It was useless.

Almost without even trying, he pulled her into the tight circle of boys, sticking her right between all of them. _No, no, no, _Mikan thought frantically, feeling her knees knock together as she glanced around, seeing only the big, mean boys surrounding her. _Hotaru, Luca…_She thought, losing hope rapidly as the boys began to discuss what to do with her. _Anyone...help me! _Tears sprang into her eyes as the seconds passed and no one came. She'd been attacked by these boys before, when she'd been on the way home with Luca and Hotaru and fallen behind. They'd been closing in on her when her siblings had leapt through the underbrush, armed with Baka guns and…rage. It rose in her throat now, threatening to choke her along with the tears. She let out a desperate sob and dug her nails into her palm, clinging to a thread of hope that someone might come – might save her at the last second.

Suddenly, it happened. With a crash and a thud, one of the boys surrounding Mikan to the left tumbled to the ground, yelling out in surprise. The boy grasping Mikan's right wrist didn't let go, but his grip slackened while he was distracted by his fallen comrade. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Mikan strategically placed her left forearm over the one holding her wrist, twisted her right hand so that his thumbs were facing up, and yanked her hand out of his grasp. She darted away from him, the boy barely realizing that she'd gotten away before she was three yards from the scene.

Roaring in anger and disbelief as he realized she was gone, he lunged at her in a stupid rage. Mikan would've run away – run as far as her legs could take her – but she remembered the sudden thud of the boy falling to the ground – the sudden crash through the underbrush – and wanted to know who had done it, who had saved her. As the angry boy charged towards her, fists formed, she began to regret her actions and wished she'd run. Eyes squeezed shut, arms over her face, she braced herself for an explosion of pain.

_Please don't let it hurt too much,_ she thought despairingly, feeling vibrations tumbling from the ground. _I don't want to die yet._

For a few long moments, she waited. Nervously, she realized the vibrations had stopped. She figured the boy was just pausing, waiting for her to look up so he could slug her in the face, break a couple teeth. So she stayed as she was, heart still pounding, waiting for the pain. She received no blow. Briefly, she thought she imagined the sound of a light thud, someone brushing past leaves, a twig breaking. But still she stood there, arms over her face, waiting. A minute passed. Nothing had happened. She slowly raised her eyes to see what was going on. She gasped.

"Woah," She breathed, feeling her eyes widen to the size of saucers. All four of the boys were lying on the ground, some supine, staring up at the sky in a dazed way. Others were lying on the ground in a face-plant, their chests barely moving. One of them groaned. Mikan looked down, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she saw the boy who had grabbed her wrist at her feet, a big welt rising on the back of his head. _Skedaddle, _was the first word to come to her mind. And next, _Who was that?_

Following her first instinct, she left, barely looking back as she raced down the path to home.

* * *

His knuckles hurt.

Wincing in pain, he shook out his arm with a strained look on his face. Studying his fist, he saw the raw red marks on his hand, the bloody cracks running between the knuckles. He spit into his other hand and rubbed it over his fist. _Ow,_ he thought coolly, frowning into the darkness. His legs swung back and forth slowly on the tree branch, face shrouded by the darkness of the forest. He thought about what he'd just done. Had he been fast enough? Moved with enough agility to avoid being seen?

He didn't know why he was going through all this trouble to not be found. Then he imagined the girl's brunette hair, amber eyes full of fear. The way her left hand stayed clenched even when she opened her right. Her wrist yanked harshly by that thug.

He swiped his hand over his face, rubbing the stiffness from his eyes. He took a slow breath in through his nose, then let it out loudly from his mouth. _God, _He thought wearily, shaking his head. _Did she see me? _He plucked a leaf from the branch and ripped it in half. Then ripped it again. And again. And again. He ripped it until there were exactly 16 pieces, just like the paper he'd saved for her. He felt a pang in his stomach. Why didn't he just show her who he was? That he'd been the one to save her? It wasn't like he was afraid of her. Definitely not. More like entranced by her–

He blinked. Had he really just admitted to that? Thought of something that ridiculous? He rubbed his eyes again, shaking his head. God, he was going nuts. There was no way he liked her – even gave her a thought.

Right?

* * *

Thanks for reading! I'm sorry I've been absent for so long – it's been a tough year. It does help to have some encouragement, though. :D What did you think? I really want to hear from you all!

-Catheriney2004


	5. Chapter 5: A Similar Situation

**Baker's Heart**

A Story Based on a Baker and Gakuen-Alice Lover's Life

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Gakuen Alice! ;D

**Introduction:**

Everyone has a different story. A different soul, a different life, and most importantly, a different heart. It sounds corny, I know, but when you think about it, it makes sense.

What sort of heart does a kidney or a blood donor have?

What sort of heart does a loving parent have?

What sort of heart does a serial killer have?

When you ask these sorts of questions, you don't really know the answer. You know who is good and who is bad, but do you really? What about loving parents that divorced? Are their hearts really so pure?

I'm not saying that my parents are divorced. They're living a wonderful life, working together in their own business – and most importantly, taking care of us. My brother, sister, and I spend most of our days after school with our doting grandfather – we call him Jii-san. He encourages all of our activities – my sis's techno-genius, my bro's adoration of animals – even me stinking up the kitchen every once and awhile with a recipe gone awry. Our life could be considered...well…_perfect._

That is, if you didn't include school.

This is _my soul, life, and heart. _

_It's my Baker's Heart._

* * *

**Start of Chapter Five: **

"Hi, Hotaru!"

Deep violet eyes swiveled looked up, barely seeing the flash of brunette hair pop into the doorway as the door slammed shut. A silent wave of relief washed over Hotaru as she watched Mikan stoop quickly to pull off her shoes, grinning at her with her usual childish glee. Analyzing her, Hotaru decided that Mikan was alright – albeit much later than she usually was.

"Where were you?" She asked stoically, her violet eyes barely blinking. Innocently, Mikan smiled at her and replied,

"I saw a really pretty flower on the side of the road." Tilting her head, she held up a small, white daffodil that bloomed from a strikingly-yellow center. "So I stopped to pick the prettiest one." Hotaru looked at her skeptically.

"It took twenty minutes to pick _a flower?_" She asked, speaking in an unbelieving tone. Mikan seemed to stop. For a long moment, her puzzled face seemed to spell out the question, "I was gone _that_ long?" and she tilted her head to the side, spelling out a question mark with her body. Hotaru sighed, shaking her head in exasperation, and then turned back to her project.

"Whatevs," she muttered, picking up her pen. "Why don't you go do your homework, too?" She looked at Mikan with expectancy in her eyes.

Mikan glanced at the clock. It was three. Nodding agreeably, she trotted down the hall and up the stairs, throwing her backpack onto the floor as she entered her room.

_Gosh,_ she thought, glancing warily down the corridor when she went to shut her door. _That was a close one._

Eyeing the small, vulnerable-looking flower in her hand, she frowned and put it down on her desk. It was true – she _had_ picked a flower. That was the complete and utter truth. But it was a lie that it had taken her twenty minutes to do it. She hadn't told Hotaru everything – the whole story.

But that didn't count as a lie, right?

Mikan sighed and fell into the chair by her desk. Thoughts of what had happened to her fluttered at the corners of her mind, like a butterfly brushing the sky with its wings. She shook her head, trying not to let her curiosity get away with distracting her. Anyway, it didn't matter that much. She was safe – that was all that mattered. For a moment she sat there, just letting denial wash over that thought.

Did that count as lying, too?

* * *

"Um, Natsume?"

His head snapped up, away from the paper on his desk, to look into his sister's anxious crimson eyes. It was about 7 o' clock now, a full hour after dinner. He hadn't noticed her calling his name. Sitting up and putting his pencil down, he asked,

"What?" in his usual nonchalant tone. Looking worried, she put her hand to his forehead, feeling for his temperature.

"Funny," she stated, looking perplexed. "You don't _feel_ sick."

"Well, _should_ I be?" Natsume replied in exasperation, frowning at her slightly. "It's not like I'm sneezing my nose off." Aoi grinned and pulled her hand back to her side.

"You're right, Natsume," She giggled, shrugging her shoulders a little. "You just looked a little down, that's all." Natsume struggled to keep his mouth shut. He sort of wanted to ask her if she'd ever seen a girl with brunette hair and amber eyes–

But he couldn't do that. Couldn't blow his cool.

Anyway, she was a year younger than him – it wasn't like she'd be able to remember someone like that, anyway. Natsume thought back to that afternoon, when he'd seen the thugs threaten her to tears.

"_Who else could possibly deserve to be kicked around more than you?"_

Those had been awful words – enough to make any girl cry. Natsume frowned harder, furrowing his eyebrows and forgetting Aoi yet again. What had she done to deserve that sort of treatment? It wasn't like she stood out, or anything.

"He-_looooo_?" Suddenly, his sister was nose to nose with him, glaring into his eyes. "What are you thinking about, already? Spit!" Natsume regarded her calmly, forcing himself not to say anything.

"It's nothing," he replied coolly, trying to make his tone pacific. "I'm just thinking about this math problem." Aoi scoffed angrily and retorted,

"Right." She glared at him with annoyance and pointed to his homework. "_You_, math _genius_ of the century, just spent half an hour on-" She swerved to look at the paper on his desk, his hand too late to conceal the problems on the page. "The area of a triangle."

There was no mistaking the frustration in her voice. A new fire in her eyes, she shot spikes at him with her blazing red eyes.

"When are you ever going to tell me _anything?_" She demanded furiously, hot tears welling in her eyes. Natsume felt a brief pang of regret. Should he have told her…?

Suddenly, she snatched his homework from his desk and ripped it cleanly in half. Then, not looking behind her, she angrily stalked off.

_Never mind, _Natsume thought with resentment, watching his homework, now split into two, drift to the floor with a slow flourish. _I'm glad I didn't tell her anything._

Natsume heard a slam down the hall and a ripping sound from Aoi's room.

_Well,_ he thought wearily, putting his head into his hands. _There went _her _homework._

* * *

It was Tuesday morning.

Mikan's eyes flickered open to the sound of birds chirping, the bright sunlight shining in her eyes like a flashlight. Groaning, she turned over in her bed, groggily lamenting the early school hours. Briefly, she brought her left hand up to her face so she could check on it – to see if the scar had grown any smaller.

_Of course not,_ was her only wistful thought as she watched it twitch miserably. She let out a loud yawn, her mouth open, and arched her back gracefully as she stretched, leaving her worries for later. She let out a satisfied sigh as she relaxed into her covers, falling comfortably back into her bed with a slight twinge in the back of her mind about the previous day.

_Geez,_ she thought miserably, pulling her hand down her face in mild agony. _I thought I would be able to forget about that overnight._ She might have spent five, six minutes just lying there – pondering the afternoon with the thugs and staring at her wretched, blackened hand with a frown. Suddenly, sighing with defeat, she let the worry and her hand fall away. She laid there with her eyes closed for just one more moment.

_Breathe, _she thought. _Take it easy._

Bracing herself, taking a breath, Mikan heaved herself into an upright position on her bed, yawning again and reaching her arms out to the ceiling like a cat. Pushing the covers off her lap, she sprang off of the bed and into the bathroom, where she began to hum as she picked up her toothbrush. Squeezing the minty paste onto the bristles, she did a little dance as she filled her mini cup with water, rinsing her mouth out after a quick brush.

"Ah," She sighed, smiling brightly at her reflection in the mirror. "That's _much_ better."

Flinging off her nightgown as she bustled back into her bedroom, she grabbed her clothes and assembled herself in front of the mirror. After a moment's fuss, she took a good look at herself and nodded.

_Reasonable enough_, she thought, shrugging as she opened her door to leave the room. _Not anything anyone can make fun of._

Smiling, she entered the kitchen. Her mother and father were already there, grabbing files and sandwiches for work. Giving all three siblings a quick kiss on the cheek, they hurried out the door, waving briefly as they sped out of the garage in their sleek, dark Camry's. Waving back to them with a flourish, Luca closed the door with a little sigh. Mikan went up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Big brother," she offered affectionately, smiling up at him. "Can we have pancakes for breakfast?" Luca blinked a little, confused. He looked into his sister's innocent eyes, scrutinizing the unmistakable caring in them; he understood. Unable to suppress a smile, he replied

"Sure – whatever you guys want." Ruffling her hair as he began to head towards the stove, he grabbed the frying pan from its hook on the wall. Smiling gratefully back at her as he grabbed a package of pancake mix off the shelf, Luca received an equally charismatic look from his doting younger sibling. Feeling his mood lift, he set off to work.

Of course, Mikan was usually the one to cook – but, seeing her brother's troubled face, fretful eyes, she instinctively knew that he needed something to do; something else to work on. She smiled secretly to herself as she turned from both her older siblings, pretending to study how well she could move her left hand as she felt a frown form on her face from her own worries. Hotaru analyzed her as well, seeing through her act almost immediately.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked with her usual characteristic bluntness, narrowing her eyes as Mikan turned to her with an innocent act. Plastering a smile on her face and blinking her amber eyes, she replied,

"Nothing. Just school stuff." She shrugged with a "your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine" look. Hotaru didn't like this at all. Her eyebrows furrowing, she insisted,

"I know something's wrong. Why don't you just tell me?" Mikan looked at her older sister – her beautiful deep purple eyes, the air of grace and calm that surrounded her – the worry flickering deeper inside. Feeling a little guilty, Mikan swallowed her story and replied firmly,

"Really, Hotaru." She smiled at her convincingly. "It's nothing at all." For a few minutes, there was a pause. An uncomfortable silence.

"Why?" Suddenly, Hotaru's voice sounded over the hum of the stove. It was lower and sharper, more dangerous.

"What?" Mikan stared at her older sibling, beginning to regret what she'd said. She should have made some sort of story up – something to convince her she was alright–

"Why don't ever tell me _anything?_" Hotaru suddenly exploded, abruptly standing up from the kitchen stool, sending it flying across the room. _Clackity-clack – crash! _Mikan stared with horror as the metal chair wobbled back and forth on the ground. She looked back up at her furious older sibling, feeling her hands begin to shake. Hotaru's eyes were cold, hard – like a shard of amethyst, glinting angrily in the light. She began to stutter,

"I – I'm really sorry, Hotar–"

"For_get _it," she muttered with cold fury, brushing hard past Mikan as she left the house, slamming the door behind her. Luca, only just realizing the drama that had occurred, turned from the stove with a steaming plate of pancakes in his right hand.

"Who wants – " He stopped. Then, frowning and lowering his hand, he started again. "Um, where did Hotaru go?" Mikan didn't dare look at him – didn't dare let their eyes meet.

"To school," she replied hollowly, staring with a miserable dread at the front door she'd just watched her sister rush through. "She was in a hurry."

Hearing her voice crack a little, Mikan turned back to her brother, forcing her face to stay straight. She attempted an excited smile, feeling as if there were ten-ton weights attached to each side of her mouth.

"Yay, pancakes!" She exclaimed, only it sounded more like, "Yay…pan..cakes."

Before Luca could even say a word, Mikan had already snatched the plate from his hands and sat down at the island, stuffing the fluffy, hot bread into her mouth in a gloomy manner. Her back was facing towards him.

Shaking his head helplessly as he sat down across from her, Luca could only imagine what had just gone wrong.

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Thanks for reading this chapter! :O Oooh – it looks like both Natsume and Mikan are in a snitch with their siblings. XD With different levels of intensity, of course. I hope you enjoyed this! Please leave your opinions here! .

-Catheriney2004


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